Lions!
by PrettyVacant483
Summary: At 17, I was pulled off the streets to work as basically a girl who does Chris D'amico's bidding. I'm enrolled in a high school where he hopes to find Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl. What else? I have to double as a super-heroine named Femme Fetale. Just great.
1. Along Comes A Spider

Our first meeting didn't go, er, painlessly. At least for him. I was punching a ratty old punching bag when he made a bad appearance. As the bag swung left, he appeared towards my right. I punched him right into his shoulder and he fell on his ass to the hardwood floor.

"Ugh," he grunted, picking his head back up. I rolled my eyes and offered my hand. As he stood up, he rubbed his shoulder and groaned again. "Interesting first impression, huh?"

"Who are you, and why am I punching you?" I asked. I crossed my arms and stared him down. I awaited for an interesting answer which I doubted I would get.

"Chris D'amico. My contacts said you'd be working out here, and they were right," he said. The pain seemed to have subsided seeing that he had no more problems standing straight. "I've heard good things about you. You're strong, clever-"

I began to punch the bag again and listened with little interest.

"-fast, young, and, well, not hard on the eyes." I stopped and glared. "Just a compliment. I was just wondering if you would consider a job I have open."

My curiosity arose as I caught my breath. "A job? What kind?"

"Well…" he trailed. "Nothing too hard. The perks would be great, though: an apartment, free food, two grand per day."

I froze the moment he told me the little perks. I turned to him and took my first good look at him. He wasn't much taller than myself, 5'8 at most, fairly thin, and dressed like a casual businessman. "What would I have to do?"

"Few small tasks. How would you feel about rejoining high school?"

He somehow knew I was a dropout, and that creeped me out a little bit. "For two grand a day, I'd love it. There's got to be a catch."

"You'd just be doing a little investigating," he insisted. "There's someone I need to find, but I don't want them to know I'm looking for them. Are you a good actress?"

"I pretended for a moment there that I cared that I punched you," I informed. He laughed, but I didn't. "Stop beating around the bush. What- wait, this is stupid."

I grabbed my belongings eand headed out of the community center gym. Just how random is it for some kid to offer me a two thousand dollar a day job, an apartment, and food for the entire run? But, standing outside the building, I wondered _where the hell am I going_?

I looked onto the street and saw a long, black stretch limo. "What the-"

"Like it?" Chris asked from behind me. I jumped in place and cursed him out. "Take my offer, and this would be normal for you." I think he was trying to be slick, and it was starting to work for him.

"Does none of this seem weird to you? You know where'd I be; you know that I dropped out of high school; I'm sure it's safe to assume that you know my name-"

"-Bethany Daniels-"

"-that's freaking weird!" I exclaimed.

He tossed his hands in the air in surrender. "Fine. You can go back to living your life, living in some apartment that you are three months behind in rent. I'll go."

Chris' chauffeur opened the door to his limo and he began to step in. His words sank into my head and I shut my eyes as I felt that I was about to regret what I was going to do. "Mr. D'amico," I said. I took a breath. "Fine. But you better tell me what it is your job really involves."

Chris smiled. It was a smug one, one that said "I knew you'd come around." "Great," he told me. He motioned for me to step in the limo. "Oh, and just call me Chris."

I know that any sane person wouldn't enter a car that was owned by some teen who just offered her the strangest offer she could ever think of; when you're poor, jobless, and about to be evicted, you're not sane. As soon as I stepped in and dropped my bag on the floor, Chris handed me a manila envelope. I opened it and winced at the sight. There were several photos of me, information of my family and history, and even my medical records. "This is stalker-ish."

"It's not called stalking, it's called research. I only like to hire the best."

"Um, thank you?"

"Here's basically your job," he told me, handing me another envelope. This time they were photos of two other costumed people. "They're known as 'Kick-Ass' and 'Hit-Girl'." I had heard of Kick-Ass, but no Hit-Girl.

"Never heard of this girl," I said. "Didn't Kick-Ass die on TV or something?"

"No. Your job is to go to Westwood High School and find them. My research team has narrowed them down to there."

"Why can't you find them though? You found me."

He sighed. "Superheroes are annoyingly hard to find. Especially this stupid dynamic duo."

"What about the other one? Red Dust or something."

His smug smirk reappeared. "Red Mist."

"Yeah," I said. "What happened to that fag?"

"That _fag_ isn't of importance right now," he said. Chris' tone was bitter now. I backed off. "I need you to find their real identities. We found some tips that might help. We're prone to believe that Hit-Girl's father is recently deceased, and that she's living with someone else. Kick-Ass, on the other hand, we're not sure. He's about my age, around seventeen or eighteen, but that's it."

I looked at the photos again. "Why do you need them?"

"Personal," he said. "Your job is to figure out who they are, and then just tell me."

I glared at him. "This is a joke, right?"

"Miss Daniels, I assure you that this is no joke," he told me as the limo pulled up to one of the most elegant building in the city. "I'm professional. If I say that I'd like you to take this job, then I'd like for you to take this job. Oh, and welcome home."

Chris and a butler lead me to the elevator as another held my things. "Miss Daniels, my I call you that?" I nodded. "Well, I must say that I lied about there being an apartment."

"What?" I snapped. "How could you-"

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. "I got you a flat."

The flat was at the doors of the elevator. I stood in awe and was speechless. "Holy crap."

Chris took my hand and lead me inside. His butlers followed him neatly. "This is yours, as long as you are sure about my offer."

I still wasn't able to speak. I looked at the flat in amazement. My mouth gaped as he lightly tapped my cheek to wake me up out of my trance. "You are sure, right?"

I snapped out of it. "Yeah. Sure."

He smiled and motioned one of his butlers to put down my bag by the dining table. "Good. Come by at eight later, and we'll talk and have dinner. I'm on top." I froze again and looked at him. "Of your flat!" he exclaimed, embarrassed. "I'm on floor thirteen, you're on twelve. See?" I laughed at his awkward smile.

"I get it. Don't worry. I'll be there."

Chris left me to my new flat, and I returned to bliss.


	2. Running With The Devil

I wished that I couldn't dressed a little more formally, but all that I had on me was another pair of jeans, a leather jacket, and an old t-shirt that didn't fit. I felt embarrassed, but what else could I do? Go out shopping?

I stepped into the button onto the number '13' and waited. I listened to the tacky elevator music and waited a short while. I stepped out slowly before I felt a man kick me at my side. I fell to the ground and winced in pain. A large man in a black mask grabbed me by my shirt and throat. "What the hell?" I hoarsely spoke.

He tossed me back to the closed elevator. This time, I didn't waste a second. I balanced myself and tripped him with my foot. Standing up, I looked for something to use as a weapon. As he began to get up, I grabbed a large framed photo off the wall and bashed his head with it. Glass and wood shattered all over the place. The six-foot-five giant fell unconscious.

A steady, slow clap came from across the room. Chris stood there, formal wear and all, before walking towards me. "Bravo, Bethany. Bravo. I was sure that you would take care of yourself, but so quickly? Impressive."

"You did this?! What the heck is wrong with you?"

"I just wanted to check out your fighting skills on something that moved," he said calmly.

"You sent a four-hundred pound man at me!" I shouted. "Is this your idea of a damn welcome? If so, you must not get a lot of guests over."

"Come on," he said sweetly. "Bethany, you know I wouldn't do something like this if I thought you would seriously get hurt."

"Yeah?" I said, rubbing my head. "Well, this morning I thought I knew that I was going back to my crappy apartment in Queens," I told him. "I was wrong about that. Wait, I thought my job was investigative. Why the hell would I need to flip over ultra-heavy guys?"

He chuckled, hands behind back. "You won't always be flipping men," he told me. "Sometimes they'll look like _me!"_ And with that he caught me off guard by hitting me with a long, hard metal staff. It hit me in my waist. He did a few fancy twirls with it and attempted to hit me again, but I caught it with both hands, extended my hands towards him for balance, and flipped him behind me.

"You're insane!" I told him. "That's it. I don't know what kind of sick games you're setting up, but I'm out of here. I don't care about the money."

"Bethany, please," he whimpered. He clutched his stomach and sat upright on the ground. "Just hear me out. Please."

I stopped myself from pressing the down button of the elevator. "Okay, fine. But you have to tell me what's with your messed up methods of finding employees."

It took longer to get himself up this time than the last. He held onto the wall and continued to hunch over. "I needed to test your physical ability and skill," he groaned. "You passed."

"Ya' think?"

"No more surprise attacks," he promised me. He seemed sincere, but I didn't drop my guard for a second. "I just- another part of the job involves, well, hand-to-hand combat."

"Hand-to-hand combat?!" I asked, pissed off.

"Occasionally with a deadly weapon."

"I'm out of here."

"Bethany-," he said, grabbing my shoulder. "Twenty-five hundred." I didn't hesitate and left for the elevator again. "Three thousand! Let me just talk with you, please."

"This is your last chance. One more freaky thing from you, and I'm gone," I said. "Last chance."

He painfully put his hand over his heart. "I swear."

I nodded. "Okay," I said, tossing my hair out of my face. "And stop calling Bethany. It's Beth."

He smiled and snapped his fingers twice as two more large men came our way. My muscles tensed up again as I felt fear hit me again. I was close to fighting, but they simply took my jacket and directed us down to another room. "James," Chris said, "Get that mess cleaned up. And, wake up Albert."

I eventually found us in a large dining room, red lighting covered the place, and the table was completely set up. Flowers stood in every corner of the room, and a tall, thin waiter stood at the table along with a small metal cart. "Shall we?" he asked.

I sat down, and the butler placed a napkin on my lap before doing the same for Chris. I began to cock my eyebrow as the butler then placed a small bit of salad in front of me. "What kind of dressing would you like?" his deep voice asked. "Italian, thousand island, or perhaps a vinaigrette? Balsamic, pomegranate, raspberry?"

"Um," I said, thinking for a moment. "That last one sounds good. I guess."

"The usual for you sir?" he asked.

"Yes, Roberto," Chris answered. He added a little bit of each dressing to our plates, mixed it up, and then left us alone after pouring us each sparkling water. "So, is everything to your liking?" he asked me.

"It seems good," I said. "I'm just not used to this kind of stuff."

"Understandable," he told me sincerely. "Don't worry about it. Our main purpose here is to discuss the details of your new job. Oh, which, by the way, begins this Monday. Your first day of school."

"Okay…" I trailed.

"School's already been in session for three weeks, so you'll be the new girl. Now, obviously we don't want you to be get too popular, or else you'll draw too much attention. However, I need you to get acquainted with a certain clique."

"Which one?" I asked, taking a bite of my salad.

"Well, the nerds," he said.

I put down my silverware. "The nerds?"

"It's most likely that Kick-Ass is acquainted with the world of comics, which would make him, well, a nerd," he said. I nodded in agreement; it made sense. "You'll find your way to get to know them, and see if any of them are Kick-Ass. If none of them are, we'll work on other cliques."

"What about Hit-Girl?" I asked. "I'm kinda older than her."

"We have a plan there too. Because of her athletic appearance, we'll suspect that she'll join a sport along the likes of cross-country or soccer. They don't let girls join football," he chuckled. "We'll get you onto the teams." I nodded again. "And, when you get back to your flat, we'll get your measurements."

I began to choke my water. "What the hell? Measurements?"

"We'll need to take measurement for a special outfit you'll need," he informed me. "You obviously know of the whole superhero craze, right?"

"Why else would I be here?"

"Exactly," he smiled. "Well, we'll have you be the next big one."

I stared at him quietly for a moment before I busted out in laughter. "Oh, you're screwing with me, right? Me? A superhero?"

"I'm not kidding." His face didn't move. "You're going to be the big, new superhero on the scene. You'll get the trust of the city, including Hit-Girl and Kick-Ass."

"Okay…" I said. "You're insane."

"I'm just hiring someone for a job. You're free to pass it off.'

I had to think about this for a second. He agreed to pay three grand a day just for me to go to high school and find Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl. However, now he wanted me to be a superhero. Was three grand a day worth it? Hell yeah. "Okay, fine. But what would I do as a superhero? Walk little old ladies across the street? Find kittens from trees?"

"Don't worry. The superhero part will take another few days to establish, but we'll just need to focus on school for now."

The first day of school was one of the most stressful days of my life. I was dropped off by a minivan that Chris ordered so that I looked like everyone else. However, I felt extremely uncomfortable in my new outfit. Chris bought my entire new wardrobe, and today they picked out my clothes for me: tight skinny jeans, a low cut sweater, and two-inch heels. When I walked inside, I felt dozens of eyes staring at me. I pulled out my new schedule. I had Calculus first; my stomach sank. I hated math.

I also found my new locker, not too far from the cafeteria. One of the many teenage boys began to stare at me as I opened my locker. He was taller than me, a little tubby, and wore a black t-shirt with a Batman logo on it. He was a geek, perfect.

"Hi!" said with a friendly accent. "I'm Beth."

He stood speechless and just stared at me.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"N- n- n- Nick," he finally mumbled.

I knew that he wasn't Kick-Ass; he was too… tubby. Not to be mean. On the other hand, he probably was friends with the real Kick-Ass. "Well, I'm here, and this place is pretty-"

He still was having problems talking, so I just let him snap out of it. Unfortunately he was taking too long, so I just went ahead and put my stuff in my locker and left after giving him a sweet wave goodbye. I walked the halls looking for more geeks, possibly in a group. That's when I saw him.

"Dave?" I asked. I couldn't believe it. "Dave is that you?"

Dave looked at me for a minute, confused. "Do I know you?"

"We went to middle school together!" I told him. "Beth Daniels?"

"Oh my god!" he said ecstatically. "I haven't seen you in years. What happened?"

"I did some moving around," I told him. "So did you. You moved out of Brooklyn too."

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Oh, these are my friends. Todd and Marty."

Dave's two friends acted exactly like Nick. "What?" I asked. "Is there something on my face?"

"Uh, trust me. It's not something on your face," he told me. "When did you move to Manhattan?"

"Few weeks ago," I said. They continued to stare. "What?"

"It- it's just that- the last time a girl as hot as you talked to us this randomly, our houses were egged," Todd told me.

I smiled kindly at him. "Oh, it's okay. I don't know anyone here, so there's no way I could have friends to egg your homes," I laughed. They stood there nervously. "No, seriously. I'm not going to egg your houses. So, Dave," I said giving him a light tap on the shoulder, "What's your first class of the year?"

"Uh, AP World History," he told me.

"Yeah, I doubt we'll have any classes together," I told him. "You were the A student and I… I… I don't like to think about it. What lunch do you have?"

"Fourth period."

I nodded. "Good, me too. I'll see you there."


	3. School Uniforms

When lunch came around and I got my lunch, I immediately felt like I was looking at a zoo. If I wasn't told where to go, I would be lost. There were the rich girls, the popular girls, the jocks, Asians, nerds, geeks, ghetto, and the kids who spent too much time talking with staff. I found Dave and his friends sitting in the back corner, and I was about to head off towards them when a girl stopped me.

"Hi, are you new here?" she asked nicely. Her clothes were clean cut, a skirt and a well fitted sweater, and not a hair was out of place. I saw her Tiffany necklace and knew she was the type to have money. "I'm Claire McDonald."

"Oh, nice to meet you," I said, more interested in making my way towards Dave. "Yeah, I'm new."

"Well, let me be the first to formally welcome you to Westwood High. Home of the bulldogs. Do you know anyone here yet?" she asked curiously.

"One person," I answered. "Dave."

She stood there quietly, as if I hadn't said anything.

"Dave Lizewsky," I said. "He's over there with the curly brown hair and glasses."

She stood on her toes and looked at where I was pointing. When she saw him, disgust hit her face. "You mean, of the geek trio?"

I shrugged. "I guess so."

"Trust me…"

"Beth."

"Trust me, Beth. I can show you around the school and get you into where real socialization occurs," she said. "Why don't you follow me?"

I shook my head and apologized. "Sorry, I promised my friend I would sit with him."

She looked at me with disbelief and let a chuckle. "You've got to be kidding me."

I simply walked away and forgot about her. Who cared about some air brained daddy's girl when you have a job to do, and that job is to find Kick-Ass. I dropped my tray playfully and sat down. "Hi, Dave," I said, looking to my immediate right.

He smiled back and appeared to be the only one comfortable with me. All the other guys sat there with their eyes wide open again. "Ignore them," Dave said. "They did the same thing when Katie first started hanging around."

Hand in palm, I looked at him. "Katie?"

"M- my girlfriend," he said.

"She thought he was gay," Todd said. Dave shot him and evil glare. "Well she did."

"Aww, how sweet," I said, taking a bite of the greasy school pizza. "How long have you been seeing each other?"

"Few months," he said. "Anyway, that's not important. How did you find yourself at Westwood?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. Dad moved, mom got a new job."

Cody interrupted us. "Here's the _real_ question: How do _you_ two know each other?" he asked pointing his finger back and forth the two of us.

"We knew each other in middle school back in Brooklyn," I answered. "He moved, however, right after the eight grade. This little S-O-B," I said, giving Dave a light slap on the head, "Left me all alone."

"Oh come on. We're all here now," he insisted. "Why don't you meet up with us over at this comic book shop we hang out at. The 'Atomic Comic.' You can meet Katie there."

"Sounds great. I'll just have to ask my-" I paused at my mistake.

"Your what?" Todd asked. "What's wrong?"

"My boss," I asked. "Uh, he knows my dad, so I tend to be able to get flexible schedules. I'll just call him and tell him I'll try to go to work tomorrow instead." Shit, I'd have to watch myself a little better later.

The rest of the day went smoothly. If they didn't wear glasses, have asthma, or carry a book bag covered in X-Men pins, then I didn't talk to them. That left a good five to ten percent of the people I came across.

I left school and looked for the minivan that would pick me up and take me to the

comic book store. I had called Chris ahead of time, and he was feeling pretty ecstatic that I had already been making friends with the right group of people. He chattered on about how Kick-ass would rue the day, or some shit like that. After five minutes of him ranting on the phone, I hung up.

When I was dropped off at the comic store, I noticed that there were even more people staring at me from the inside of it than my entire high school combined. I found Dave and four or five other friends standing by a statue of Kick-Ass while they read some various comics. As I opened the door, a small bell chimed, and Dave and his friends saw me.

"Hey, Beth," he said, motioning for me to come over. I straightened my sweater and walked over. "This is Katie." Katie was a pretty girl, and I could see why Dave would like her. No offense, but a girl like Katie rarely ever dated guys like Dave. "Katie, Beth."

"Nice to meet you," I said, giving her a wave. "I'm just an old friend. Moved here just a few weeks ago."

"I know," she said. "Dave here's been ranting since sixth period. 'My old best friend is back', 'I can't believe she's here', 'Wow, she's changed'. He won't shut up!" she said with a smile.

"I'm sorry," Dave apologized. "I just can't believe she's back."

I rolled my eyes and suggested that we sit down at one of the tables. When we did, I carried on the conversation. "You two are very lucky," I told them. "Not all relationships are this simple."

"Trust me," Dave said. "Our relationship was never simple."

"Beth," Katie said, "Are you having guy troubles or something?"

Dave cocked his eyebrow. "Katie, when a girl talks about relationships, do you always think she's talking about her own?"

"Yes."

"No."

Our answers contradicted, leaving several confused geeks. "Okay," I said, "Often she is. Just not this time. I don't want any sort of relationship right now. My life is crazy at the moment, and I don't it to be more so."

We spent the next few hours talking about everything from the strange lunch ladies who stare at us, Jessica Alba's crappy acting, and eventually Homecoming. I had never been to Homecoming when I was in high school. I dropped out half way through my junior year, so I had three opportunities; I guess the want never came around.

Within the next two hours, Chris texted me and said that I had to come back 'home'. I apologized to my new friends and headed out the door. However, before I was able to make the small bell chime, Todd stopped me. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked nervous. "Beth…"

I waited for him to say something else. "Yes?"

"Beth, I just wanted to ask you- to- to ask you- if you- you'd like- if you'd like to go to the Homecoming dance next week. With me. Together-" I was about to give him an answer, but he wouldn't shut up. "I know you said you don't want a relationship right now, and I'm not asking for one. All I want is for us to go to the dance together. Marty and Dave are already going with their girlfriends, and I'm single- not that I mean I want you to be my girlfriend- I mean, there's nothing wrong with you. I just-"

I clasped my hand over his mouth. "I'll go to Homecoming with you, Todd. Okay?"

I had a date for Homecoming; I was never able to say that before. Even though Todd was no Johnny Depp, I seemed excited at the idea. It was definitely not Todd; I was obviously getting excited about the party. I hadn't been to a dance for years.

When I reached the building and the elevator, I saw Chris standing right there. "How'd your day go?"

I shrugged, slinging my book bag over my shoulder. "I'm in with the geeks," I said almost proudly. "Turns out I went to middle school with one of them."

"Really?" he asked, amused. The elevator doors opened and he motioned for me to go first. "That makes things easier now. Anything else?"

"I'm going to Homecoming with some Todd kid," I answered. "Tall, slightly muscular, just like Kick-Ass. He's a possibility. Nervous as fuck, though."

"He's a geek, of course he is. And good job on Homecoming. It'll give us a chance to show off her."

"Who's 'her'?"

He slyly smiled as we stopped at one of the highest floor. We stepped out into a clean white room. The walls were finely polished, not a spec on them. In the center of the room was a mannequin wearing one of the most ridiculous costumes I've ever seen. Chris looked at it and at me proudly. "Your welcome."

"For me? It's like a glammed-up version of a Power Ranger's suit, Chris."

"C'mon, Beth," he said "Try it on, It was specially made for you."

"It better have," I muttered. "With all those stupid measurements…"

"Just put it on," he said, shaking the mannequin.

I looked around. "Here? In a room full of mirrors."

"Put it on."

"Close your eyes."

He sighed and covered his eyes with both hands. "Happy?"

I put my fingers over the material. It was plastic-like, but the inner part was warm. I don't know what kind of material it was made out of, but I had never seen it before.

After a few of annoying pulls and stretches, I was able to get the suit out off of the mannequin. I held the suit against my body and looked at myself in the mirror. It was a metallic white-silver color with a deep grey lines that drew down the things and arms. The neck, right above the breasts, was lined in a clear material. I knew that it was Chris' personal touch and gave him an evil look that he couldn't see.

I changed out of my jeans and sweater and slipped on my new suit. It fit strangely perfectly along with my body. I struggled with the back zipper. "Chris, can you help me?"

He opened his eyes and looked at me spinning around in my suit like a dog chasing his tail. He laughed, stopped me, and then zipped up my suit. "There," he said, "You look great."

I stared at myself and put both hands on my hips. "I look like a cross between the Emma Frost, a spacewoman, and… Christina Aguilera in her last music video."

Before I realized it, Chris held up a long, straight platinum blonde wig.

"Or Hannah Montana." Chris instructed me to tie my hair into a quick bun. After that, he put the wig on me, and I straightened it. "No, Lady Gaga." He then gave me a pair of black sunglasses laced in diamonds. "Definitely Lady Gaga," I said, putting the sunglasses on.

"You look good, and no one will ever know who you are," he assured, running his finger through my hair to straighten it out. "Perfect," he said as I put on the sunglasses.

He was right, about the identity thing anyway. It was ridiculous looking though. I looked like a superhero out of a bad comic book.

"C'mon. I'll show you how to use it now."


	4. Shame For You

Chris opened a door, which looked like another mirror, and lead me into a room with multiple guns, knives, and, you guessed it, mirrors. "Wow," I said, both with fright and curiosity. "This place is… big?"

He handed me a large white belt, fully equipped with multiple pockets that where filled with who-knows-whats. I put it across my waist and adjusted it to the point that it was comfortable- which was never. It was heavy as fuck, and I was pretty sure that there were several things in it which could kill me.

Don't think I'm ignorant. Chris told me about what he did. He told me about how he took over the family 'business' after his father passed on. I knew that at every moment I breathed, his men were probably killing off someone else's men. Did it affect me? Not too much. I knew that with the money he had, there had to be a catch. I didn't mind.

He told me it all last Saturday night, two days after he gave me the job.

"_So, this doesn't disturb you?" he asked._

_I shrugged it off. "I'm used to being involved in the drug ring," I commented. "When I was fifteen, I took a trip with my friends to Coney Island. When I came back, my parents and sister were shot," I told him. "The police just called it 'gang related violence.' "_

"_Oh," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."_

"_It's okay," I said, unable to fake a smile. "That was, like, two years ago. Almost three."_

So the fact that the room I currently stood in carried dozens of violent weapons on the wall didn't shock me as much as it would other seventeen year old girl. I'm not saying I wasn't caught off guard, but I was freaked out.

Chris proceeded to fill my utility belt with various weapons as my arms were extended outward to let him. "You'll eventually get used to the weight this carries. I think you can handle it."

"Whoo-pee," I muttered.

"Don't worry," he said, instructing me to put my arms down. "You look great."

I observed myself carefully in the mirror in front of me and had a sudden urge to sing Bad Romance. _Rah-rah-rah-ah-ah…_

"Beth?" he said, snapping his fingers in front of my face. "Anyone alive?"

"Yeah," I said, taking of the sunglasses. "Hey, Chris, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he said, adjusting my belt.

"Why are you so sure that Hit-Girl and Kick-Ass go to Westwood High?"

He smirked and looked my in the eye through the mirror. "I knew you'd ask eventually. Kick-Ass checked up on his MySpace two or three times at the school; we checked the IP address. He managed to scramble his home's."

"Oh."

"And I have reason to believe that Hit-Girl and Kick-Ass know each other personally, so they'd stay close," he added.

I shrugged. "Okay."

"Plus, Westwood High's actually a middle and high school," he said. "As you may have already figured out."

"Yeah. How old is Hit-Girl supposed to be again?" I asked.

"No official numbers. The same goes for Kick-Ass. However, we estimate eleven and seventeen."

"So HG's like… in the sixth grade? How am I supposed to socialize with sixth graders."

Chris smirked. "I told you before. School sports. Because of her age, she'll be put in Junior Varsity. However, you'll often have meetings and practices at the same time. Look for whoever might seem exceptionally gifted. She doesn't like being shown up."

"She like to show off," I said, taking a note. "Got it."

The next day at school didn't start off as nonchalantly as I would have hoped for. The moment I stepped into the building, people began whispering and avoiding eye contact with me. A few guys snickered at me, and I rolled my eyes.

"Beth," Marty said, catching up with me. "Alright!" he said, raising his hand and expecting me to give him a high five.

I stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I never would have thought that I would be friends with someone on the list."

"What list?" I asked. I stared him down again. "I said, what list?"

He suddenly grew nervous. "I- I figured that- th-" He pulled out a list, and I snatched it out of his hands.

It was a computer printout with the title **THE LIST**. I looked at it curiously before reading it down. Various features, such as 'best tits' and 'hottest legs' were listed along with the name of a girl next to each one. I scanned it down a second time and found my name next to 'most fuckable'.

"It might see- seem demeaning, but that actually translates in guy talk as 'overall best'."

His words phased me. "Who wrote this list?"

"I- I'm not sure. S- some of the more popular guys, I think."

I turned around and saw several broad-shouldered, dim-witted football players talking amongst themselves. I walked up to them, balled up the list, and threw it to the biggest one's head. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" I said with a monotone voice. The guys stared at me, then several others' eyes followed. "I asked you a question, moron."

"You're coming up to one of the biggest guys in school," one guy said, "And you're calling him a moron?"

I nodded. "You're right. He's just a fat-ass. _You're_ the moron," I said. "You all think you can write a list that demeans girls and then just get away with it?"

I awaited an answer, but they only smirked at first. One finally confronted me. "I think we all started on the wrong foot," he said. "My name's Andrew, and you are…"

"Miss Most Fuckable," I said. "The bunch of you better get rid of this list from whatever website you have it on. Immediately."

"And who are you say that?" Andrew asked, crossing his arms.

I smiled and looked back at Marty to see his reaction to the situation. Dave and Todd had met up with him, and all three stared at me. I saw Dave mouthing 'no' to me. He knew. "You guys," I said, turning back to the jocks, "better not mess with me," I suggested.

"I don't-"

I kicked him square in the chest, knocking him into another one. The other five guys stared before I kneed one, hit one in the elbow, broke someone's nose, and the final two ran off.

Dave shook his head disapprovingly; Todd and Marty applauded with excitement. I received mixed reviews from the other students. Some seemed excited at the show, others appeared frightened.

You don't actually expect me to say that I just went to class as if the teachers didn't care, do you? Within the next five minutes, I was brought in to the principal's office. I sat down next to a younger student.

She was in junior high and sat with her arms crossed. The teachers left us alone to make some phone calls.

A quick moment of silence passed. "What are you in for?" I asked her.

She looked at me. "I threatened a kid for whispering behind me," she said. "You?"

"Attacked a group of footballers for calling me 'most fuckable' on some list," I said.

"Cool," she said with a laugh. "I'm Mindy."

"Beth," I said, smiling. "How-"

"Miss Daniels?" Mr. Jenkins, the assistant principal called out. "We've got your father on the phone."

"Who now?" I asked. I waved goodbye to Mindy and followed Mr. Jenkins. He gave me the phone and watched me as if I was going to steal it. "Hello?" I asked into the phone.

"Beth, you're not supposed to be attracting attention," Chris said sternly.

I giggled into the phone. Mr. Jerkins looked at me, and I forced a frown. "Yes, daddy," I said, withholding my laughter.

He paused. "Okay, okay," he said, "I get that this is funny, but seriously, you need to not attract attention. What did you do?"

"Attacked a group of footballers," I said calmly.

"God, you're- did anyone die?"

"No. I broke some kid's nose, but that's it."

He sighed. "Fine. Just don't get in any more trouble. I don't want to have to replace you."

I pouted. "Okay, daddy." I hung up the phone.

"Two Saturday detentions," Mr. Jenkins. "You'll report to the library at 8AM and will stay until 1PM."

"Yes, sir," I agreed.

"Now get on to class. We don't need you in more trouble."

"Yes, sir," I said again.

On my way out, I made eye contact with Mindy. "I'll see you around?" I asked.

"Mindy?" the assistant principal called out.

Mindy stood up and smiled at me. "Probably in detention."


End file.
